Under Stormy Skies
by bearsrawesome
Summary: There's a sadistic serial killer on New York and during an undercover operation Neal is kidnapped and is destined to become the killer's next victim. Will the BAU team be able to help Peter find his CI in time? Or will Neal be another name on the list of victims? Neal Whump and CM/WC teamup
1. Chapter 1

Agent Peter Burke rubbed his eyes tiredly, taking a sip of long-cold coffee and staring blankly at the computer screen. It was late-even for Peter-and the sun was just disappearing over the horizon, casting dark shadows across the entire city. He was slouched in his office chair, tapping drowsily at his keyboard as he tried to finish all the reports ready for tomorrow's undercover operation. Although Peter could have quite easily insisted one of the other White Collar Division members complete the necessary reports and files so that he could go home at an earlier hour and not have a ton of work on top of his already full load; he always did it anyway, mainly because he didn't trust anyone else with the safety of his team. If something went wrong, he would prefer to know it was his own fault rather than anyone else's incompetence or possibly betrayal.

The TV on his wall hummed and blared out the familiar sound of the news. It was a strangely comforting sound in the silence of the empty office despite the fact he paid little attention to it. A few minutes later he glanced up and was drawn in by the beautiful, blond haired woman on the screen in a black jacket.

"…_we believe he is Caucasian male in his mid to late thirties and he is indeed a sexual sadist and all his abductions appear opportunistic. This unknown subject or unsub always takes his victims just before a large storm. The FBI cautions all white males in their late twenties or early thirties with dark brown or black hair to be careful and avoid walking the streets alone till the storm front passes-"_

"Looks like I should be careful."

Peter almost leapt out of his seat in surprise as he turned to see his partner -and ex conman- Neal Caffery leant with his arms folded across his chest in the doorway of his office. Behind him the office was dark, the lights off and Peter was pleasantly surprised Neal was still here, preferring his company to an evening of loneliness.

"Why are _you_, of all people, worried? You wear a tracking anklet on your ankle. Half a dozen people-including me-know where you are every single moment of every day. It's our job to make sure you stay exactly where you are; voluntarily or not." Peter mused, a smile crossing his lips.

Neal scoffed and slipped his hands into his pockets before stepping into the room with a slight stylish swagger that Peter was now so accustomed too. He scanned the piles of folders and papers on the desk and his bright blue eyes widened.

"Do you need a hand?"

Peter scanned the mess of documents before leaning back in his chair and pursing his lips.

"Nah, I'm on the last one anyway. Just making sure everything's ready for tomorrow. You ready?"

Neal flashed his award winning smile and tilted slightly in a casual, confident pose "Peter, I'm always ready. I've had loads more dangerous undercover missions before."

"Missions?"

"Hey, it sounds cooler than whatever you would call it, like I'm some superspy American James Bond. I always did love those movies." Neal stated, his eyes crinkled in amusement.

Peter clicked the mouse to save his accomplished report and flicked the TV remote so it switched off with a final, endearing snap. A yawn escaped his lips as he rose and slipped his jacket off the back of his chair and pulled it up his arms.

"Whatever 007, you and I have a busy day tomorrow and I expect you here all bright eyed and bushy tailed at nine; you meet with Jackson at eleven."

Neal laughed jauntily and flipped his infamous fedora hat onto his head with its customary manor and handed Peter his leather briefcase, which he accepted with a grateful nod. They quietly walked out, chatting all the way down to the ground floor about Peter's weekend plans with Mrs Elizabeth Burke but Neal was stubbornly silent about his dinner plans with Sara Ellis in a couple of days. Peter teased and prodded but didn't push the matter any further, acknowledging the privacy of the matter as they strolled through the large glass doors and out onto the street.

The wind was bitterly cold and Neal turned up the collar of his thick coat at its harsh breath before rubbing his hands together. Even in the darkness, the thick, ebony clouds that rolled and filled the sky above were visible as they tumbled and rumbled angrily. The storm was steadily growing fiercer and more aggressive as it approached and even Peter was slightly intimidated by its power. Neal coughed lightly and patted Peter on the back in a friendly manor before climbing gracefully into Peter's car as Peter crossed to the other side and clambered in. Their conversation continued throughout the entire car journey as the two bantered humorously, even as they got trapped in unusual late night traffic and rain and hail began to pelt the car making the metal ding infuriatingly loudly. When they pulled up outside Neal's apartment the young conman sighed and put his hand on the handle in preparation before turning back to Peter.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. If only I didn't have to get wet."

"Cowboy up, Caffrey. Bye."

Neal flashed a weak, un-amused smile and leapt out of the car with an inhuman fluidity before sprinting through the harsh precipitation and slipping on the stairs as he jumped them. Neal tumbled sideways, catching his leg painfully on the corner of the top step making Peter flinch. He wound down the window as Neal stumbled the last few feet and cowered under the doorway; June kindly anticipating his arrival and opening the door, a concerned look on her face.

"You okay, Neal?" Peter shouted over the relentless banging, watching the hail spray up off the pavement.

Neal just looked at him with a grimace and rubbed his shin, waving off the matter and giving a reassuring thumbs up before disappearing through the open door and into the dry, flash apartment. June smiled warmly and signalled her greeting to Peter afore closing the door as the wind howled.

Sitting back, Peter breathed a withered sigh of relief as he relaxed back into the soft fabric and gently pressed on the accelerator and drove back out onto the street. Finally another long day was over and Peter couldn't help but crave the rush of tomorrow's operation even if most of his time was spent listening to Neal's interactions through a headset inside the van. Anything was better than typing up detailed statements and forms for Hughes to briefly glance through. Peter smiled and gladly anticipated the warmth of a hot shower and his gorgeous wife as he steered toward home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Peter smiled and gladly anticipated the warmth of a hot shower and his gorgeous wife as he steered toward home._

SSA Derek Morgan leaned back against the heavy wooden desk and sighed wearily. He had been staring at this board for a good hour or so and now the smallest things were distracting his sleepy mind. Things like Reid's neat handwriting caught his attention and he found himself subconsciously analysing it, noting how unusually feminine his handwriting was with its curvature slant. Morgan groaned, scolding himself and quickly deciding to go grab another cup of coffee before he went insane. Nothing on the board had leapt out at him, no sudden brilliant theories of how to catch the psychopath who was mysteriously drowning innocent young men.

There was barely anyone in the New York detective department at this time of night, only a few unfortunate officers dozing in their chairs. Morgan smiled as he saw FBI Liaison Agent Jennifer Jareau already at the counter in the small kitchen area, the aroma of rich, brewing coffee filling Morgan's nostrils as he approached. JJ was oblivious to his presence as he came up behind her, absentmindedly pouring her fresh brew into a cup sipping it tentatively.

"Hey JJ."

She whirled around startled and almost dropped her new drink on the ground but steadied it just in time. Placing a hand on her chest in a gesture of a racing heart she smiled weakly at Morgan's grinning face.

"Morgan, you scared me."

Morgan laughed gently "That's me, all big and scary."

He punched her amicably on the shoulder and her smile grew wider as she turned around and swiftly handed him another cup of the gorgeously warm coffee.

"Thanks," Morgan replied gratefully, taking a large gulp in an attempt to heat himself up "Well done on the press conference today, you did really well."

JJ nodded appreciatively as she leant back against the white counter top "I just wish we had been called in sooner, the killer's going to abduct another victim any day now and I'm left feeling unsure if we can do anything to stop it."

"Don't worry JJ, we'll find this guy." Morgan paused before continuing "Anyway it's unlikely we could do much anyway, we barely have enough on this guy and we kinda need something to go on. Though I hope it's some kind of public tip off rather than another adduction."

JJ bit her lip tensely and set the cup down beside her "Hotch and Reid are down at the mortuary, apparently a lead on where the men may be being drowned and Rossi and Blake are checking out with the local weather station to try and work out when the kidnapping is most likely going to take place…but it's a bit of a stab in the dark. All we can do is warn as many as we can and send a few more patrols out to canvas the area but New York's a big city, Morgan. It could happen anywhere."

Morgan bowed his head and observed the swirling pattern on the surface of the liquid, uncertain of how to answer his friend's confession. Finally JJ exhaled and picked up her cup, this time taking a long gulp and gazing out the nearby window.

"The weather's getting really bad, I'll call Hotch and Rossi then we should meet back up at the hotel. I don't know about you but I'm exhausted and I would certainly feel better if I had a good night's sleep and come back in the morning with fresh eyes."

Morgan nodded, sucking the last of the bitter fluid that suddenly seemed so much less delicious and straightened, mumbling an agreement before tossing the empty cup in the open bin. It bounced on the lid once and fell inside and Morgan gave a small cheer of satisfaction; taking pleasure in JJ's giggle and light applause as they headed out, snatching up their belongings.

Just as they reached the elevator, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushed out of the hallway behind them with a slight squeal as she skidded across the smooth floor and almost barrelled into Morgan. She titled perilously but Morgan his strong arm out, catching her as she tipped and setting her back on her feet with a amused glint in his deep, chocolaty-brown eyes.

"Woah Baby-girl, where you rushing too?"

Garcia's grateful look turned into a poignant frown as she studied Morgan then JJ.

"To you of course! I do need a ride to the hotel too you know!" she exploded dramatically, gesticulating wildly in her usual flamboyant way and poking Morgan painfully in the chest "You should be ashamed of yourself, hot stuff, leaving a defenceless young lady such as myself to face the dangers of the taxis of New York."

JJ chuckled, wrapping an arm around Garcia in an apologetic manor as well as a sisterly one.

"We are so sorry Garcia, I totally forgot you were still working; it was my fault."

Garcia gave a slight harrumph before striding into the empty elevator as the door opened; her vivid red heels clicking on the floor as she did so. Morgan glanced at JJ who shrugged at him and followed the analyst's lead. With a mock-despairing shake of his head, Morgan hopped inside beside Garcia, tapping the button impatiently as the large metal doors shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

_Morgan glanced at JJ who shrugged at him and followed the analyst's lead. With a mock-despairing shake of his head, Morgan hopped inside beside Garcia, tapping the button impatiently as the large metal doors shut behind him._

Neal was exhausted. Being undercover for a few hours was difficult enough but he had formed a close relationship quickly with their target- Darren Jackson- and so he had kept subtly pushing and prying for information. It was going well as they walked down the empty street together, Jackson nattering excitedly about his little mortgage scheme that Neal-well Phillip Greene, his alias-could make millions on if he invested and used his apparent resources to keep everything seem entirely legal.

It was dark now and Jackson had insisted they walk back to his offices so they could not be recorded or overheard, oblivious to the concealed wire beneath Neal's pristine, pressed white shirt. Neal was subconsciously aware of the movement behind him, Jones occasionally breaking cover to keep the pair in sight in case Jackson was leading Neal into a sophisticated trap, however unlikely it seemed. Peter and Diana would be close by, maybe a couple of blocks behind them so that they could keep monitoring the live feed without drawing attention to themselves.

"…it would be as easy as pie, so what do you say Phillip? Do we have an agreement?" Jackson halted suddenly and Neal almost tripped up in an attempt to slow his brisk pace.

Shaking Jackson's outstretched hand; Neal flashed his most brilliant charming smile.

"It would be a pleasure Mr Jackson."

"Oh call me Darren, please Phillip we're now business partners; no need for formalities." Darren waved Neal's politeness off and laughed heartily, slapping his hand on Neal's back so hard that Neal almost fell again.

"I can tell this is the start of a successful partnership."

Jackson wrapped his arm around Neal's shoulder in a seemingly amicable manor and gave him a slight shake before pushing them onwards again, steering him into a darkened alley. Once again light chatter started up and their conversation continued down the next pathway as they headed toward the tall, well lit skyscraper just over the next crest of buildings.

The storm had fallen quiet for a moment and it made Neal uneasy, as if it were waiting with baited breath for something to happen. It seemed even colder than before, even without the fast winds and Neal almost slipped on a cardboard box now sodden and flat. As they entered another maze of alleys a shadow emerged at the other end, swiftly approaching them with a hood obscuring his face. Jones was probably a while behind, to avoid being seen and the sudden loneliness that filled Neal was almost suffocating. The strange figure passed them by and seeing Neal's nervousness, Jackson just laughed.

"You worried you'll be that new victim all those FBI people on the news are talking about? Calm down Phillip, like that's ever going to happen, there are two of us."

Neal gave a weak smile and lowered his head to the pavement as they continued to walk, approaching the end of the endless shadowed path. The light was just staring to reach out and pull them to safety when suddenly there was a loud gunshot that echoed through the narrow space. A second later Jackson crumpled to the floor, brains and blood spraying across Neal and the walls as he fell -face first-the blood already forming a halo like pool around his head when he hit the floor. Neal's heart leapt in fright and before he could even process what was happening he was jerked back from behind, a strong arm wrapping around his throat in a choke hold. He fought against the superior weight but cold metal was pressed harshly against his temple and he froze instinctively, recognising all too quickly what was happening.

"Don't scream, don't shout. You even make a sound and I'll blow your head off." a calm voice whispered in his ear, the gun digging in harder to emphasise his point.

Neal knew better than to argue and allowed his assailant to drag him backwards into another alley that branched from the current one. They slowed and Neal realised they were now beside a dark, ebony van that merged with the darkness of the shadows and hid the vehicle from prying eyes. There was a grinding sound as the side door was slid open and Neal was just about to be shoved in when Jones came sprinting around the corner, gun raised.

"FBI, freeze!"

The gunman hesitated for a millisecond then forced Neal further in front of him like a human meat shield before raising the gun from Neal's head and firing at Jones. The bullet hit it's mark and Neal watched in horror as Jones's head snapped sideways at the impact, sending him sprawling onto the dirty ground.

"Jones!" Neal screamed desperately but his cries were cut off as the murderer hissed in anger and sent him careening into the back of the van so that he tripped over the slight step and his head collided with the metal on the other side.

Neal's mind swam and he swayed as he rose up on his knees in disorientation before there was a prickling sound and a sharp object appeared on his neck, sending blinding pain through his entire body and causing bright dots to flash in his eyes. He tumbled over as the Taser was removed and he barely registered his hands being quickly and mercilessly bound behind his back with tight wire before his vision was clouded and he slipped into the blissful darkness, the rumbling of the engine fading into silence.


	4. Chapter 4

_He tumbled over as the Taser was removed and he barely registered his hands being quickly and mercilessly bound behind his back with tight wire before his vision was clouded and he slipped into the blissful darkness, the rumbling of the engine fading into silence._

SSA Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner sighed as he relaxed in the soft bed, his head spinning with drowsiness as he settled into the covers. He and Reid had just returned from the yesterday quite after discovering that the victims had been restrained-probably elevated by their wrists and arms-before being drowned in rainwater. The possible theories of how their unsub was torturing and killing his victims had flitted around in his head for the rest of the night but he couldn't make much sense of them as he felt the numbness in his limbs and his heart yearned for sleep that would not come.

Now he was lying-still fully clothed in suit and tie though his shoes lay abandoned on the floor a few feet away where had kicked them impatiently off-after another long day of absolutely nothing; just breathing deeply and snuggling into the warm blankets. Discounting his professional side, Hotch flicked off the light switch and just let the darkness wash over him, clearing all worries and thoughts of the case and locking them away in the back of his mind. His subconscious dreamt of strange, happy things like family and holidays; times where Hotch had been at his happiest intertwined and balanced by haunting nightmares and reoccurring horrors like Hayley's death.

A buzzing interrupted his sleep and Hotch's eyes snapped open and reached stiffly into his pocket, pulling his phone out and holding it over his face so he could read the screen. Wiping the bleariness away from his eyes he squinted and the bright screen and slowly sat up, self-consciously straightening the loose tie slung over his left shoulder. It was Rossi.

"Dave? It's…" Hotch leant back slightly to see the red digital clock on the hotel room's bedside table "nearly ten o'clock, I ordered everyone back to the hotel."

"Sorry Aaron," SSA David Rossi said apologetically "Reid and I decided to stay just a little longer to see if we could find anything new."

"And?"

Rossi sighed and Hotch could practically see his friend frowning on the other end of the line "Aaron, there's been another kidnapping."

Hotch leapt out of bed, switching the light on and preparing himself in the mirror as he responded.

"Where?" Hotch rushed out, already heading out the door and snatching his keys off the side.

"Down some alleyway on the north side," Rossi gasped "But you need to get down to the hospital, I heard there was a witness to this one and another dead body."

Hotch glanced at his watch quickly then continued hurrying briskly down the corridor "I'll be ten minutes."

When Hotch arrived at the hospital, he was greeted at the entrance by Rossi who waved him in and escorted him through the bustling corridors toward the room. The white wall flowed past as they navigated through the maze of wards, occasionally directed by a nurse or doctor. They reached the ICU ward and strode confidently up to the desk, waiting for one of the attending nurses to spot them.

"Can I help you?" a pretty young blond said casually, placing a clipboard down in front of her.

Hotch and Rossi both flashed their badges at the same time and the nurse took a surprised step back.

"FBI, ma'am. We're looking for a man who was brought in earlier from a crime scene, had a gunshot injury to his head?" Hotch clipped gently, keeping strong contact with the woman's sparkling green eyes.

"Of course, Clinton Jones…"she gazed down at her clipboard, her eyes running swiftly down the long list of names, before gesturing toward the far end of the hallway " He's awake and about to be moved but he should still be in Room 209."

The two BAU members nodded their heads in gracious appreciation before marching down the indicated path and knocking patiently on the white door. There was a mumbled reply that they assumed was come in and they opened the door to reveal a black man with a bandage wrapped tightly around his head and another wearier looking man with short, scruffy brown hair perched on the metal chair beside him.

"Who are you?" the man in the chair demanded, standing up quickly with a cold glare.

Rossi stepped forward this time, beginning the measured greeting "I'm Agent David Rossi and this is Agent Hotchner, we're with the FBI's BAU team and we're investigating this case. Wed like to speak with Mr Jones please?"

The black man who was obviously Jones perked up at the sound of his name and turned to his friend with a nervous glance.

"Peter…?" he questioned before 'Peter' waved him down.

"It's okay Jones, I got this." the man reached into his blazer pocket and revealed a similar FBI badge which he showed to the two agents.

"I'm Peter Burke, I'm the leader of the FBI's White Collar Division here in New York and this is one of my agents." he said gesturing to Jones behind him, who just smiled weakly.

Hotch held out his hand in greeting which Peter took after a moment giving a feeble shake.

"We just need to ask Agent Jones a few questions about what happened and about the victim."

Peter visibly paled and Jones avoided eye contact with them as he shifted uncomfortably in bed and patted his bandage absentmindedly.

"That victim," Peter spat sternly "Was my CI, Neal Caffrey, and you can listen to what happened yourselves, we have it all on tape."


	5. Chapter 5

**So I had the idea for this in the middle of a maths exam and immediately after it was over wrote it down. I love White Collar and Criminal Minds so this seemed like a really good idea to do. Please review and tell me what you think, I hope I don't make the characters too OOC but…**

"_That victim," Peter spat sternly "Was my CI, Neal Caffrey, and you can listen to what happened yourselves, we have it all on tape."_

Peter didn't get a wink of sleep that night. Most of the evening was spent issuing orders and processing information from Jones's bedside. Jones had been unconscious for hours through a mix of blood loss and a nasty concussion, though Peter was just glad he was still alive. When he had heard the gunshot and Neal's scream, Peter had leapt from the van and tore through the maze of passageways thinking the worst. Jones had just been lying completely prone, face down of the floor amongst the dirt and Peter almost didn't want to check if Jones was alive; admit that he had lost one of his best agents and a close, trusted friend. Despite his terror for Neal, Peter had thanked the Lord when he felt Jones's strong pulse beneath his fingertips. Then the chaos had erupted around him as backup and paramedics arrived, swarming all around and creating a solid perimeter. The paramedics had had to pull Peter away from Jones and Peter was so out of it that he could barely move, let alone speak or do his job.

Diana came to his rescue, taking control of the situation and rattling off orders; setting up the crime scene and organising the thrall of people all around whilst simultaneously contacting the local police department and set up a manhunt with a dozen roadblocks to try and find the vehicle that they had heard over Neal's wire. Then the heavens had opened and everyone had hurried to cover the pretty much non-existent crime scene form the torrent of freezing water. Peter just stood in the midst of it all, watching the paramedics treat Jones and just allowed the water to soak through his suit and chill his bones.

Peter had accompanied Jones in the ambulance, sitting in dead silence as he processed what was happening around him. Reality had finally dawned on him as he was sat in the hospital beside Jones; who now had stitched across the long gash on his temple and a clean bandage wrapped around his skull.

_Neal had been kidnapped._

It had happened whist he was undercover; with Peter and two highly trained teams of FBI agents only three blocks away, listening to every horrifying moment like they would stood right beside him. Peter had never thought for a second that Neal may have been in any danger, especially from a completely unrelated source. Of course there had been the odd case where Neal had a gun pointed at his head or had been knocked around a bit, but he always suffered for the good of the case, and now not only was Neal gone but the case was over, with Jackson dead it wasn't exactly another successful case.

Peter scolded himself for being so close minded and selfish. This was Neal's life he was talking about, and he was upset about ruining a case? Not to mention the fact that he was naïve enough to imagine that with FBI agents crawling all over the vicinity that Neal would be perfectly safe. Nothing ever went smoothly with Neal Caffrey was involved and just yesterday they had been talking about this whole killer thing and that Neal should watch his back. So much for caution.

When the two BAU agents strode into the quiet hospital room, Peter was angry more than surprised. He knew they would be coming; it was only a matter of time seeing it had become a large part of their investigation, he just wasn't quite ready for it. Jones had only just woken up and was quite disorientated, not to mention wracked with guilt over just letting the psychopath take Neal and then getting himself shot; Neal probably thought he was dead.

After the long explanation about who Neal was and the circumstances concerning his kidnapping. Peter and Agents Rossi and 'Hotch'-as he insisted Peter called him-headed back to the office and found Diana pouring over a stack of files of the current case. Once the formal introductions were over, Peter had ushered them into his office and they had listened to the tape the wire had recorded, all the way up until its discovery which seemed to have been around an hour or so after Neal was taken. It had taken Peter a minute to realise that the killer must have taken Neal's shirt off, the rustling muffling and jolting the microphone and the thought of what Neal was going to wake up too sickened Peter.

"How does he kill them?" Peter asked quietly as the tape finished with an angry growl as the equipment was torn off.

Rossi and Hotch glanced at one another questioningly before Hotch replied, looking straight into Peter's eyes.

"We're not sure exactly how, but they all appear to have been drowned in rainwater."

"Does he torture them? Is it painful?" Peter felt the words catching in his throat, but he carried on.

"The torture appears more psychological, it seems like he drowns them slowly. All our victims had signs of hypothermia suggesting they were immersed in cold water for a long period of time before death." Rossi turned to face Peter, his expression sad and serious.

Peter massaged his temple and breathed deeply "How long did the others survive?"

Hotch frowned and raised his eyebrows "Depends on the size of the storm; the more rainfall, the quicker the death."

"Do you have anything? Leads? Suspects?"

"Not so far, no but this tape shows us a lot and our team can at least build on our profile." Rossi said, his voice hushed and compassionate "We promise we will do our best to find your partner. It would be useful for us if you could come and meet the team, brief them on Mr Caffrey?"

Peter nodded slowly and straightened his tie absentmindedly; the mixture of worry and hopelessness was almost overwhelmingly painful. With a final sigh, Peter staggered out of his office, leaning against the rail outside as he tried to organise his jumbled thoughts and emotions.

_He had to save Neal._


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it takes a while to update, I've been working on other stuff but I'm glad you like my writing and don't think the characters are too OOC. Please review and favourite, I really appreciate it. Enjoy!**

_He had to save Neal._

Blake followed JJ into the large conference room in the FBI White Collar Division in New York. The room was around the same as their room back in Quantico, a similar wooden oak table as its centrepiece and a screen at one end. The others were all sat around it with obviously those in the White Collar Division at one end. Hotch and another older agent whom Blake believed to be called Peter Burke stood at the screen with the information on their cases projected on the board and Garcia's unusually straight face on the corner of the image. JJ and Blake slid into two empty seats and stared at the two head agents expectantly.

"You're probably all wondering why you're here." Hotch said calmly, looking to each of the BAU team "Last night another man was kidnapped by our unsub in an alley in the north of the city."

A picture of a new crime scene flashed on screen along with another body.

"The victim's name," Burke continued more sadly "Was Neal Caffrey, my consultant. Caffrey was working an undercover operation and getting close to our dead man, Darren Jackson, who we suspected of running a large fraud scheme from his business dealings."

Blake saw Reid twitch and sit up straighter when reaction to the name Neal Caffrey but made no vocal comment as she observed him out of the corner of her eye. No one else seemed to have noticed though it could just be one of the profilers habits of leaving it till they were in private and the conversation was one on one.

Morgan narrowed his eyes as Caffrey's image flashed on screen "He fits the profile perfectly: thirties, black hair, blue eyes, good looking."

"He's hot." Garcia piped up but shied away from the screen as everyone turned to look at her "Sorry, thinking aloud again, just ignore me."

Morgan sniggered and the others smiled, just managing to supress their amusement as Hotch spoke again.

"We only have a short amount of time to find Mr Caffrey, the storm's growing worse and it's likely he only has around forty eight hours to live if the rainfall continues."

Peter glanced over at Hotch and sighed "I have to tell you that Neal isn't your normal consultant. He's a convicted bond forger and alleged thief and conman, meaning you are searching for a felon. However Neal has proven again and again that he has changed his ways and he has been an important member of my team for years now. So I beg of you…help me find my partner."

The others sat in silence and Blake felt a deep admiration for the obvious close relationship between the handler and his charge. Rossi glanced over at Blake with a slightly amused look in his face before turning back to Peter.

"No matter what Caffrey's done in the past, no one deserves to die like this."

Peter nodded his gratitude and stepped back slightly to allow Hotch to address them.

"We have audio from the wire Caffrey had when he was kidnapped and Agent Jones's account gives us a better idea of what happened."

Hotch paused, letting everything sink in then gestured to Garcia who tapped at her keyboard and an audio file began to play. As the recording progressed, Blake noticed Peter's body language become increasingly stiffer and he avoided looking anywhere but the floor. Reid flinched massively at the gunshots and Garcia was visibly upset, wiping away a couple of stray tears as she heard the desperation in the young man's voice as he screamed for his friend. Finally the clip ended and everyone was in complete silence, especially as they could see the emotion in the agents of the White Collar Division.

Morgan breathed deeply "Well we can now confirm that he's opportunistic with his victims. The way Jackson sounded when he talked about him being nervous it was obvious Caffrey must have seen someone walk by and it raised alarm bells."

"Neal's always been good at sensing that kind of thing, he has to be a very good judge of character being a conman." Peter responded, running his fingers through his short hair.

"So the unsub is just wandering the streets looking for men with these characteristics and then just kidnaps him…how? I mean he has to have a vehicle nearby right? It would be impossible to kidnap a physically capable thirty year old guy and carry them to a vehicle without getting noticed." JJ questions thoughtfully.

"He could choose an area and patrol the same area for a period of time; it would explain the inconsistency between the abductions." Reid said coolly "I can revisit the geographical profile with this new theory and probably get a more precise safe zone for our unsub."

"Good," Hotch replied lightly "Morgan and JJ, go to the ME and find out the information from the ME, Rossi and Blake, go the crime scene while Peter and I go interview Agent Jones now that he's recovering."

Everyone nodded and stood from their seats before heading off in their separate directions with their assigned partners. Blake fell into step beside Rossi as they headed out of the doors, Morgan and JJ chatting behind them.

_The hunt was on._


	7. Chapter 7

**So whoop cue the whump! Been seeing loads of favourites and follows in my mail, so thank you so much to everyone who's supporting me. Please make my year and review cause I love hearing from the fans (Not because of some ego complex, I'm just interested in what you guys think). Warn me if you feel the characters are OOC.**

_The hunt was on._

Neal came round slowly, a throbbing headache pounding through his head and his eyelids heavy and groggy. The first thing to come to his attention was the sharp pain and pressure on his wrists and the dull aching in his arms. Looking upwards, Neal was surprised to see his hands shackled above him in grey, wrought-iron manacles attached to a strong wooden plank that was chained to the ceiling a few metres above. His toes scraped on the concrete floor, making Neal have to literally stand of the tips of his toes to relieve the strain on his entire upper torso. Never before had Neal actually cursed his weight, which was unnaturally light for a man of his age despite his average size. With a groan, Neal shook his head restlessly in a futile attempt to clear the fuzziness in his head that was clouding his every thought and probably lessening the pain.

It was then that Neal noticed that someone had removed his shirt, and he was clad only his torn, dirty trousers; his chest bare and exposed to the freezing air. He shivered, rubbing his already raw wrists and struggled against the bonds restraining him. A grating noise made Neal look up and a box of bright, blinding light struck him in the face. The room had been very dim before but as Neal blinked away the spots he could see he was in an underground room made of the same grey, uncharismatic concrete walls and flooring. Opposite Neal was a large iron door, the small box window in the upper centre slid across to allow the figure on the other side peer through at him. The figure was just a faceless shadow, and their lack of identity intimidated Neal-obviously by intention-and he squinted harder, trying to get a glimpse of some remarkable, memorable feature.

"Glad to see you're awake." the sinister voice said quietly, a hint of humour embedded in his voice.

Neal blinked again, shifting his weight and rattling the shackles; almost losing his footing on the floor and swinging painfully, jarring his already sore shoulders.

"What do you want with me? Who are you?" he gasped; his voice raspy and full of pain that Neal was unable to disguise.

The man just laughed for a moment "I want to kill you of course! They didn't save my wife and now they can't save you. You'll finally understand what it was like! To die, trapped in a dark hole, only unlike me, you'll be alone and nameless."

Neal frowned curiously, still trying to ignore the sluggishness of his thoughts "Why? What have I done?"

The mysterious figure didn't reply, just slammed the opening shutter closed and plunged Neal back into darkness. The silence was deafening and Neal shuddered once more, testing the strength of the manacles again and tugging at them determinedly. There was a loud creak and a crunch and Neal froze, listening intently for any more noise. Suddenly there was the sound of gushing water and several circular gates opened, allowing a torrent of freezing rainwater to flood into the room.

The water spread across the floor and Neal flinched as the freezing, dirty liquid lapped against his feet. Hissing in discomfort, Neal tried to ignore the numbing tingling spreading across his skin.

_Come on, keep it together Neal. Just a little cold water never hurt anyone._

That was a rather inaccurate statement, seeing as lots of people had died in a little bit of water; or as Neal slowly realised as he watched the rising water, a lot of water. The water hummed and thundered as it hit the concrete floor and splayed out across it; deadening the nerves in Neal's ankles as it continued.

_If it carries on like this, I only have around two days before this entire room fills up._

Neal rolled his eyes slightly despite the panic; only he could get into trouble like this, it always happened to him. Why couldn't anything ever go right for a change?

Realising that it was impossible to pick the manacles without any proper lock picking tools and that he would just have to wait and try to find some kind of opportunity; though he doubted it would arise seeing as his kidnapper appeared to have just left him here to die. Neal allowed his mind to wander, and considered what would happen if he did die. Would anyone mourn him? Would Peter replace him? Would there be hot girls at his funeral?

Neal chuckled to himself, feeling an odd wave of exhaustion rush over him as he watched the water continue to rise unabated. Letting his head roll back, Neal took a deep breath of the cold, musty air and did his best to relax.

_Nothing left to do but relax and wait for Peter._

_*Thank you to Evenmoor and the guest who notified me so quickly to my posting mistake! If you don't know I accidentally posted the seventh chapter of my other fic 'Separated'. I am really embarrassed! Been staring at a screen way too long but please review if you enjoy, make my pain worth it cause this chapter took me days to complete!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I haven't written in so long, I've been away on this educational trip thing that was really important. Anyway it was really good but I had some time to write so I continued but I couldn't post 'cause I was denied internet access but here I am at 8:07 in the morning, typing up my written work. Now I think I went a little over emotional in this chapter and I may be making it a little too unbelievable but I guess that's for you to decide. Please review and tell me what you think!**

_Nothing left to do but relax and wait for Peter._

Reid felt like he had been staring at the same map for hours, just playing with patterns and shapes, trying to determine some way to help find the missing conman. It was growing dark once again over New York and by Reid's calculation; Neal Caffrey wouldn't have long after sunset to live. He would drown, just like the other four victims and be dumped in an alley somewhere. Reid sighed heavily and tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes, deciding it was probably best he drank another sugar-filled coffee.

As he walked toward the small kitchen, Reid spotted Morgan and Blake-back from their respective objectives-nattering hurriedly to one another before they noticed him and instantly stopped talking. They shared an odd look before Morgan nodded, briskly approaching Reid with a suspiciously large grin plastered on his face, his eyes not conveying the same enthusiasm.

"Hey pretty boy," he greeted cheerfully "How's the geological profile coming along?"

Reid hesitated before answering "Not well, I haven't been able to ascertain where our unsub's next dump will be and therefore I'm struggling to narrow down the killer's safe zone any further or find the possible murder site."

Blake watched the two curiously from across the room and Reid frowned in confusion. Noticing that she was in fact being observed, Blake flashed a sheepish smile before disappearing into another room.

"I'm sure you'll work it out genius," Morgan reassured him, wrapping an arm around Reid's shoulders and leading him into a quiet corner, out of the sight lines and earshot of everyone else in the office.

"Um, Morgan? What are you doing?"

They stopped in the corner and Reid could see Morgan scrutinising his expression, obviously looking for some kind of sign concealed in his features.

"Neal Caffrey." Morgan stated plainly, staring deep into Reid's eyes with a slight concerned frown.

Reid tried to control his reaction as the name caused a number of detailed and powerful emotions to surface "What about him?"

Suddenly Morgan's eyes widened greedily-looking very proud of himself-and he gave a tight, knowing smile.

_Damn it, he failed._

"You know him, don't you?"

Reid cursed his treacherous micro-expressions and tried to don a look of complete innocence, mindful that Morgan would probably continue to push the subject anyway. Basically the gig was up, unless Reid could think up a believable lie in the next thirty seconds, especially if he had to lie to the member of the team who knew him best.

"No, of course not."

Morgan raised his eyebrows "Don't lie to me, Reid. You know, I know you better than that."

Reid didn't know if it was the guilt or Morgan's intimidating all-knowing stare but he knew he had to confess, whatever the circumstances afterwards. He had always been a terrible liar-he blamed his mother's always being honest preaching-and lying would just make things worse when he was inevitably found out. His lack of deceitfulness had gotten people killed. Almost made him lose his job, not to mention his own life. Had gotten Maeve killed. His heart ached painfully at the memory of her dead body and Reid lowered his head in shame.

"Look Morgan, it's not important. I can still work the case." Reid tried to dismiss the subject with a slight flick of his long, slender hand.

"I know that," Morgan replied more softly this time, stepping in a little closer "I need to know your connection so that if it comes to it…I know your limits."

Reid ducked his head down further and whispered a faint reply, wiping away a stray lock of his long, silky, brown hair "Thanks Morgan, I appreciate it."

"So? You and Caffrey, how do you know each other?"

"We met when I was sixteen; he must have been around eighteen at the time." Reid explained thoughtfully "I was card counting in one of the local casinos during a summer break, to try and earn a little extra cash for my Mom's medicine. Neal was also there gambling; he was the only one who realised I was playing him, but instead of reporting me and getting me arrested or at the very least kicked out; he did a rouse of his own and took everyone's money, including all my winnings. I was devastated; not only had I lost everything all my spare cash but I lost the game even using my abilities."

Reid chuckled fondly as the memories resurfaced and allowed a smile to twitch at his lips.

"I went home and Mom was having another one of her episodes…a bad one. Next thing I know the doorbell rings and Neal's standing there with a travel bag and five thousand dollars. He said he saw potential in me…I always reckoned he just felt a little sorry for me after he found out about my mother from one of the casino regulars…but he ended up staying at my house for the entire summer. We became close friends; like brothers really. Everyone loved him; he was always so funny and charming and always looked so…cool. Mom was probably the one who fell deepest under his spell, adopted him into our family in no time…they would just sit and talk for hours and Neal was such help in looking after her; I don't know if I could have kept up with my studies and looked after her without him. She became like a surrogate son, my older brother."

There was a moment of silence as Reid glanced at Morgan's sincere expression and twiddled his thumbs in an attempt to try and dispel the harder events afterward.

"Of course he never stayed in one place long, always moving, always rolling the dice, always playing the game…always running. He told me that his stay in Vegas was the longest he'd had since he ran away…was the hardest to let go of. Neal almost stayed but…I had to go back to school and he had exciting things planned for himself."

Reid sighed sadly, feeling a strange emptiness well up inside him as he recalled their tearful goodbye at the train station as he boarded the train to San Francisco and Spencer had been on his way back to university.

"We kept in touch for a while…mostly letters every week or so. Then he met his best friend Mozzie whilst in New York, started some elaborate long con, met his late girlfriend Kate and got in trouble with the FBI and Peter Burke. Gradually the contact lessened as he moved from place to place and worked his schemes-becoming what many would call the perfect criminal-and we drifted apart. Everything stopped when he went to prison though; he didn't want to put my new job at the BAU at risk because I insisted on keeping contact with an infamous forger and convicted felon."

"Has he talked to you since?" Morgan asked quietly, his expression concerned and upset at the heart felt explanation.

Reid paused in thought for a moment "He…called me, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. He left a message saying that he had broken out of prison to go find Kate and that he was proud of me. Turns out Neal had kept an eye on me; knew all about my achievements and PHD's, my work with the BAU. I saw about a week later that he had escaped from a maximum security prison dressed as a guard and made his way all the way back to New York; something that would surely gain him a good four years on top of his almost completed sentence. So I decided I couldn't lose someone like that again; someone who meant so much to me, was a brother to me…it would be like losing you."

Reid felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at his own confession and he dared not look up for fear of his best friend's reaction. Suddenly muscled arms wrapped around him and locked him in a comfortingly tight, brotherly embrace.

"Don't worry pretty boy," Morgan breathed kindly "We'll find Neal…together."

"_I know we will Morgan, I know we will."  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi people, you probably all hate me right now because I haven't posted in months but I got a little preoccupied with all my other stories. Obviously I've suddenly got a lot of attention to this fic due to the release of the new CM series in the States and the upcoming release of WC in the near future; however if you're expecting me to incorporate any of the new plotlines and stuff as time continues, I must disappoint. I am British, living in England and therefore I don't think we even get White Collar over here (or at least I haven't seen it) so I mostly rely on iTunes to watch some of the episodes and then use Wiki to fill in the blanks. Criminal Minds I do get to watch (I have Seasons 1-7 boxset on my living room shelf from last Christmas) and I have seen Season 8 since it premiered over here a few weeks after it hit American screens so I am waiting anxiously for it to be shown over hear, and watching all the promos on YouTube (though I don't read any fanfics on certain scenes and possible AU's.) Anyway, enough with my excuses (?), I just hope you guys still like my writing as I haven't written anything on this for a while so please review!**

"_I know we will Morgan, I know we will."_

Peter massaged his temples, slumped in his office chair and replaying the last bout of CCTV footage that Garcia had managed to pull up. They had been able to track the SUV-which Jones had managed to identify after careful deliberation and a lot of coffee- through the streets of New York for around twenty minutes until it disappeared through some back alleys and was lost in traffic. Peter was tired. He had spent hours poring over every second of the camera footage, plotting points out on a map, trying to find all the possible routes the SUV could have taken to local pools, rivers, harbours, anything. But every lead wound up a dead end and with every failure, Peter's heart sunk a little lower and he scolded himself for wasting so much time; time Neal didn't have. Garcia-who had arrived only a couple of hours ago from Quantico at her own insistence- had been very helpful and supportive, helping clear up any images that were too blurry for him to read or just ordering all the information so that Peter could switch between it freely. At the moment, she was trying to trace the license plate number that they had managed to scavenge off the poor quality video but so far her efforts appeared to be fruitless as she huffed and puffed with building frustration. Their investigation had also been interrupted by the arrival of Morgan, who had politely asked if he could borrow Garcia for a moment and then chosen a quiet spot away from prying eyes to have a quick chat. It was obviously serious because Garcia had returned with a shocked look on her face and ever since she had devoted her entire attention to her work with distinctly determined gleam in her eye. Peter had been worried that the news was something about Neal that they felt wasn't good to share with the white collar team, and inquired-a little forcefully in hindsight-into its nature but Garcia had briefly explained that it was personal and left it at that.

Peter startled and almost knocked over his coffee cup as his phone buzzed on his desk and Garcia visibly jumped before looking up to Peter. Seeing the caller ID, Peter swiftly excused himself with a small smile that Garcia returned and then quickly jogged out into the elevator; finding the phone call an excuse to get some fresh air and purchase some more decent coffee for Garcia and himself.

"Hi El," Peter greeted but he couldn't force his usual enthusiasm into his voice, his nerves too frayed to be bothered to make the effort.

"Honey," El's calming voice echoed down the phone sounding equally as solemn "No luck in finding Neal?"

The elevator dinged and Peter brushed past a couple of people waiting to enter, heading for the front doors "No. It's driving me crazy, El."

"Calm down Peter," her voice turned a little sterner but she was still gentle in her manor "You can't blame yourself; Neal knew the dangers of the job from the beginning. You were both just doing your jobs and neither of you are to blame for this. You'll find Neal. As he likes to say, you are the only person in the world who can."

Peter couldn't help but let a goofy grin slide across his face "You're right El."

"I'm always right, Peter. Now get some more coffee and settle down. Have you called Mozzie yet?"

"Yes," Peter sighed wearily turning right toward the nearest coffee shop and catching a whiff of the hot aromatic smell of a fresh brew "He's been contacting everyone who could possibly have any idea who our killer is and where he could have taken Neal. It looks like he's gotten close to some pretty unsavoury characters and I'm getting worried about him."

El clicked her tongue "Has he had any luck with these contacts?"

"Not so far, but there's still hope and Mozzie said he'd call me as soon as he got any information." Peter replied, opening the door to the coffee shop and giving a sigh of relief at the lack of people.

"What about the FBI team with you? Are they okay?"

"They're interesting, not at all what I expected." Peter responded fondly, sliding some cash over the counter as the teenager on duty smiled sweetly and passed over Peter's usual order "They're all very professional and everything, but they seem a little odd in a good way. Everyone seems to be quite close and they certainly know what they're doing."

El chuckled on the end of the line and he heard her mobile buzz somewhere in the background "Well I have no doubt that together you'll save Neal, just don't give up hope."

"Thanks El," Peter muttered softly, a goofy smile lighting up on his face as he neared the entrance to the FBI building.

They bode one another a loving farewell and hung up, Peter sliding the phone into his pocket as the he entered the building's shadow. Something connected with his shoulder and he stumbled, his coffee spraying up and onto his crisp white shirt, scalding the skin underneath and staining the fabric a deep, exotic brown. Peter reared back and brushed at his shirt, hissing at the burning sensation as a hand grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to walk into you. I wasn't concentrating."

The new male voice startled Peter but he merely brushed the man's apologies off with a flick of his hand and dabbed at the ruined shirt with a frustrated sigh. A handkerchief was thrust in his face and he took it gratefully, wiping at the substance despite the fact the endeavour was obviously futile. The man's face came into view, a pale complexion with dull blue eyes and limp, black curls that lacked the shine of cleanliness. He was wearing rumpled clothes that hung loosely off his lean figure and Peter could see a thick chain around his neck where a shiny gold ring hung.

Peter frowned at the strangely familiar appearance and stepped back a little "It's fine. Thank you. Do we know each other?"

"I don't believe so," the man stated simply, his eyes looking back over to the FBI building with a regretful expression "I'm usually pretty good with faces."

"Do you need some help?" Peter asked, following his unwavering gaze and analysing the building's uninteresting exterior.

The man turned back and sighed, a weak smile on his lips "I just wanted to take a look, I've always wanted to be an FBI agent."

"Why can't you be?" Peter queried, all too happy to express his love of his job as he looked up at the building that demanded from him such great respect "You can't be much older than thirty? There's still time."

The man smiled meagrely and ducked his head "My time has passed. I have a new mission now; one that will free me from my curse."

It seemed a little private for Peter to pry more from a complete stranger –despite his obvious, professional curiosity-so he just extended his hand and returned the cloth the man had handed to him but the other man shook his head and bid Peter a hurried farewell before disappearing amongst the crowds. Peter watched him leave and regarded the piece of fabric before tucking it into his blazer pocket and once more cursing his discoloured shirt.

When he entered the White Collar Division once more, he made a beeline for his office and uncovered his spare suit before quickly getting dressed with his back to the office window. Peter was deep in thought, carefully tying his tie when Hotch knocked on the glass and leaned inside.

"We have a problem."

Peter spun around with worry and looked at Hotch wide-eyed "What? What is it?"

Hotch gestured for him to follow with his same stoic expression but his eyes conveyed a small amount of unease as they hastened toward the conference room and were met by JJ and Blake; both looking equally concerned. As they entered, JJ pressed a button on the remote and motioned toward the television screen on the wall with a slightly guilt look in her eyes.

"_-other victim was taken yesterday evening. Neal Caffrey, aged thirty four was a convicted bond forger now FBI consultant in New York's White Collar Division. Mr Caffrey was working on an undercover operation to bring down Darren Jackson; a man whom the FBI suspected of running a high profile mortgage scheme that was worth millions of dollars. Jackson was killed during Mr Caffrey's abduction and another FBI agent was hospitalised-however for his own safety he will not be named. Sources within the FBI have revealed that the BAU are now working with the White Collar Division to save Mr Caffrey. If the public have any information on Mr Caffrey's whereabouts, please do not hesitate to contact the FBI and our news crews-"_

The TV made a resounding snap as it turned off and the whole room fell into uncomfortable silence. Peter turned slowly and leaned heavily against the table, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"The killer will now know exactly who Caffrey is and it may change his plans. We'll also now be swamped by misinformation from the public, not to mention all the publicity of having both a felon and an FBI consultant about to become the next victim of a serial killer. A lot of people might try to stop us believing that a felon doesn't deserve rescuing, no matter his current circumstance. Plus, you've already expressed that Caffrey has quite a few enemies who want nothing more than to let Neal suffer."

JJ came around and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he tried to breathe deeply "It shouldn't make much difference to how he treats Neal; we're about to give the profile and nothing suggests that his identity will affect the ritual. It's just that we know have to be more careful about how we operate; we've been put in the spotlight and our killer will be able to track a lot of our moves as we make them."

Peter nodded mutely and forced himself to straighten up and control his raging emotions. His mask once again came up and he put his hands on his hips and nodded again before turning on his heel and leaving the way he had come. Quickly shutting himself in his office, Peter allowed himself to collapse in his chair and stared malevolently up at the ceiling linking his fingers behind his head. With an anguished sigh he rocked forward and caught the worried glances of his colleagues but he ignored them, instead resting his head on the table in exhausted despair.

_Why was it always Neal?_


End file.
